Glow
by Aspergirl
Summary: When the Master's thesis disappears, Lampy wishes he could openly express his sympathy, but he knows that appliances keep their silence for a reason. Note: Although I found "To the Rescue" a weak follow-up to the original, I wanted to expand on this moment and pose a theory about the appliances' relationship to humans.


He sighs. "Now I won't graduate." She leans down close to him. I've never seen them like this. The Master lost his thesis, which, I'm not 100% sure what that is, but I know it's gotta be important. Come to think of it, it's been important to me too, come to think of it. All the time he's spent reading by my light. Staying up all night typing away, just the two of us. Well, he did the typing; I watched and glowed. Those are some of my happiest memories.

And now it's gone. I look at Tandy and Mouse who are sitting frozen nearby, probably still think they're so bright, putting the blame on my cord. I mean, I know I'm not brand spanking new. Whose cord _would_ be in mint condition after traveling for miles in the wilderness, with more than a few close calls along the way? But that doesn't mean it's my cord's fault. Or my fault. Does it?

I'm begging them with my eyes to make the thesis appear on Tandy's screen, like it always does. They don't move. All I get is a warning blink from an orange light near the screen. I know, I know, it's risky to go live when humans are so close, but this is an emergency! You'd have to have your wires crossed to think that humans don't have any idea that we can see and think and move. We aren't supposed to mix business with pleasure. If our masters really see us, they'll get to know us. If they get to know us, they get attached. We know from experience how hard it is to be useful when you're attached. It burns you out.

He just looks so... so... lost. And I know how that feels, too. When the fellas and I were lost in the woods, that glow the Master gave us was what got us through. I can't help the Master now; I can't even try to make him feel better now. Not even after he was kind enough to upgrade me from 40 watts. I can still only do one thing: shine. I wish I could snuggle up with him like Blanky. Or, much as I hate to admit it, play him a tune like that loudmouth, Radio. I can feel my eyes welling up, and I try to stop it. C'mon, Lampy, lighten up! Biting my lip doesn't do any good. Tandy's warning light flashes red, but that only makes me feel more helpless. I give up. I'm crying silently, tears falling down my shade. I want to let it all out, scream, smack Tandy in his smug screen. Or ship him to that parts shop I've been trying so hard to forget. I bet if that human came at him with a screwdriver, he'd cough up the thesis.

I'm a little ashamed to be taking this so hard. I'm an appliance. I'm supposed to be the rational one. If the Master knew how we felt, it would be too much pressure. Every burned out light bulb would be a tragedy. It's no fun having a broken bulb, but I'm here for the Master, not the other way around.

After staying still for several minutes, I see the Master's... girlfriend, I think, stand up again. My shade is still damp, but all I can do is shut my eyes. I'm trying so hard to keep still that I'm practically shaking, practically. I know she is looking at the desk. At me. I feel a hand on my shade. Then she asks, "Rob, where did this water come from?"

"Huh?" he says, no spark in his voice. I hear his chair swivel. "Maybe the ceiling is leaking."

"If it is, that might have something to do with your thesis disappearing."

"Charlie said that was a virus. This is just my luck." It's quiet for a minute. I hear the Master's head drop onto his arms again. I open one eye. She's standing on a chair and looking at the ceiling. Before I can start the waterworks again, I have to do something. I remove my plug from the socket. It's a no-no, but I pat the Master on the back with my cord. I know Tandy is about to blow a fuse, but I don't care. We're here to help our masters, and that's what I'm doing. He starts to sit up. I pull back my cord and close my eyes. "Kris, where'd y- oh, you're over there."

"Yes..." She sounds confused, but lets it go. "I don't see anything. I'll go call someone from maintenance to take a look at it. Be right back."

As she walks out, I hear the Master's chair again. Then I feel his hand on my cord. "What is going on in here today?" He plugs me back in and switches me on. "At least you're still working." Well, I'm functioning, but I'm not _working_. And it'll take more than a 60 watt bulb and a plugged-in cord to fix me.


End file.
